Longing and Armistice

At this time next week – Christmas morning.

I was looking back yesterday, remembering dissimilar things about the year just passed. How Obama won the Nobel Peace Prize about this time last year, and that it’s been about the same time since they put the street light in that shines it’s bright green and red circles all the way through the woods and into our yard. I wonder what I’ll remember next year about this year.

Maybe I’ll remember the snow.

I spend my time looking out at the cabin. It sounds almost like a joke to not dare walk out there because of frozen shoulder, but it’s the way it is. You don’t realize how much your arms balance and catch you until a time like this and then you become so aware about how all the “parts” of the body work together in mysterious ways.

Donny’s been plowing too much to spend time shoveling a path to the cabin and even with it, I don’t know that I’d make the voyage. It feels like crossing an ocean of snow about now. I asked him if there wasn’t something I could use – something like a push lawnmower that would drop sand ahead of me while I lean on it.

I’m mainly content with looking out at the cabin, but some days I pine for it. My cabin season ended so abruptly I didn’t even clean her out, there’s a few things I wish were here rather than there, and I wish she were all clean and tidy for the next time I get out there.

One of my favorite views of her is through the dining room window where the Christmas tree lights from inside reflect against the outdoor scene. It makes me think of all those songs and movies that croon over being “home for Christmas.” I’m not sure why, but for me, (and it must be true for many as these songs are so popular) the sentiments speak to a longing that’s not necessarily about going back to a childhood home, or returning from one side of the world to another, or even being with family. I’d guess the feelings they arouse are about a yearning for a peaceful place …one in the world but not of it.

In the true story out of WWI (1914), when the soldiers spontaneously called an armistice for Christmas, that longing for home is quelled by a bit of peace and good will in such an extraordinary way. The British soldiers were in trenches filled with water and mud, about 80 yards from the enemy Germans. Here’s one letter from that time:

You need not have pitied us on Christmas day; I have seldom spent a more entertaining one despite the curious conditions. We were in the trenches and the Germans began to make merry on Christmas Eve shouting at us to come out and meet them. They sang songs (very well); our men answered by singingWho were you with last night? and of course, Tipperary (very badly). I was horrified at discovering some of our men had actually gone out imbued more with the idea of seeing the German trenches than anything else; they met halfway and there ensued the giving of cigarettes and receiving of cigars and they arranged (the private soldiers of one army and the private soldiers of the other) a 48 hours armistice. It was all most irregular but the Peninsular and other wars will furnish many such exploits; eventually both sides were induced to their respective trenches but the enemy sang all night and during my watch they played Home Sweet Home and God Save the King at 2.30am. It was rather wonderful: the night was clear, cold and frosty and across to our lines at this unusually miserable hour of need came the sound of such tunes very well played, especially by a man with a cornet who is probably well known. Christmas day was very misty and out came these Germans to wish us “a happy day”; we went out told them we were at war with them and that really they must play the game and pretend to fight; they went back but again attempted to come towards us so we fired over their heads; they fired a shot back to show they understood and the rest of the day passed quietly in this part of the line, but in others a deal of fraternising went on. So there you are; all this talk of hate, all this firing at each other that has raged since the beginning of the war quelled and stayed by the magic of Christmas. Indeed one German said “But you are of the same religion as us and today is the day of peace! It is really a great triumph for the church. It is a great hope for future peace when two great nations hating each other as foes have seldom hated, one side vowing eternal hate and vengeance and setting their venom to music, should on Christmas day and for all that the word implies, lay down their arms, exchange smokes and wish each other happiness.

(from http://www.christmastruce.co.uk/article.html Christmas Truce 1914)

In 2001, Aaron Shepard wrote “The Christmas Truce” for Australia’s “School Magazine” (April). It’s a fictional letter created out of the many actual ones. He ends the letter this way:

“One cannot help imagine what would happen if the spirit shown here were caught by the nations of the world. Of course, disputes must always arise. But what if our leaders were to offer well wishes in place of warnings? Songs in place of slurs? Presents in place of reprisals? Would not all war end at once?
All nations say they want peace. Yet on this Christmas morning, I wonder if we want it quite enough.”